Ashley Price, Private Eye for Trying Times

Ever since they first managed to repel the Mysterious Voice's power, you've known that your wards were something special. They have hidden you from prying eyes, herded away uninvolved civilians and served as a more than able defense against significant magical attack. But you've got no fucking idea if they can stop a bomb.

And to put it mildly, you're not interested in finding out today. So as you race towards Jenny's car with your friend and Rhys in tow, you do your best to keep the brainstorming session snappy. "She knows we've found her, and that she might only have time for one final attack. Where does she go?"

Jenny's the first to respond, unlocking her car from across the parking lot. "One of our houses?"

"She raided the storage lab yesterday; if she was going to plant it at one of our houses, she would have tried to blow us up already. Wait!" Before Jenny can start her ignition, you clap a hand to the side of her car and release a pulse of rainbow energy. When no smell of cat piss spews forth and no explosive reveals itself, you nod and quickly start clamoring into the front seat. "It's been a whole day and she hasn't tried to set anything off. Why?"

Rhys jumps into the back seat, calling up as Jenny starts the car and you fumble on your seat belt. "Getting one of you would only make things worse for her. If she's making a final gambit it has to be all three, while also taking out as much of your power as possible. Magical roots left in the ground tend to grow back."

Jenny seems hesitantly skeptical. "So an all-or-nothing Hail Mary? But where? And when? We're together all the time, but in all different places. She'd have to hope we wound up at the place she planted the bomb and be lying in wait to set it off at the right time." She's already veering the car out of the school parking lot. "And even if she glamors the trap, what happens if some rando steps on it and blows everything up while we're not around? There are just too many factors in play, right?"

Huh. Are there, though? Is there a place and a time when someone could reasonably expect to get you, Jenny and Isabelle all at once, while also kneecapping your magical power? Maybe...actually, wait. Maybe a bit fucking more than maybe. You whip out your phone, madly scrolling through contacts. "Jenny, take the right up here."

"Like we're going to..."--She trails off, furrowing her brow--"Oh. Oh!"

"Exactly. You might have been right from the start." The phone only rings twice before the other end picks up. No time for idle chat. "Hey; how many deliveries today?" You wait with deep impatience as your answer is worked out. "Four? Got it."

You end the call with a dark-minded grin. "Got her."

Jenny seems split between being deeply impressed with you and venomously infuriated with Gal as she stares down at the makeshift bomb attached to the power generator for the Vargas-Holt barn. "That fucking bitch."

Rhys is clearly impressed as well, but needs a little help seeing the steps of your inductive reasoning. "How did you know?"

"You're the one who got me there. Assuming someone had been keeping tabs on us, what's the one time and place they would know they could get me, Jenny, Isabelle and the largest possible chunk of our power all at once?"

You motion for Jenny, and she takes your cue. "The Saturday Ritual."

"Exactly. And while we only ordered food from three places for the girls today, four deliveries came. Gal hitched herself a ride. Now." You stare in trepidation down at the bomb. "What the fuck do we do with that thing?"

"That part's easy. At least now it is." Jenny snaps her fingers, a ringing pulse echoing out from her hand to saturate the homemade explosive. "There."

Rhys raises his eyebrows slightly, giving Jenny a curious look. "What did you do?"

The cheerleader flips her hair over her shoulder. "I turned the stuff inside of it to water. Never been able to do that much at once before, though; thank God we creeped on Mr. York and Ms. Hayden."

You let out a breath of relief, giving the proud-looking Jenny a grateful pat on the back. "Fucking Jesus, am I glad that that's dealt with. Though now we're stuck waiting for her to come above water again."

"Why?" Rhys shrugs at your curious glance. "Don't you think she's still here somewhere?"

A little prickly sensation works its way down your neck as you consider that. Christ, it's a good thing Isabelle's parents aren't home. "...I mean, I hadn't thought about it. But yeah, the delivery guys are all still fucking in the barn. Their cars are still here."

Jenny cocks an eyebrow. "You think she'd wait on her ride? Didn't you say she can turn into a goddamn bat?"

"If you'd seen this girl in person, you'd know that she is not the kind of person who walks or flies or whatever if she can get a ride instead. And you'd also know that 'Impulse Control' is not a concept she's familiar with."

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that that,"--You jerk your thumb towards Isabelle's house--"is way too much of a temptation for her to resist. Maybe I'm wrong, but...I don't think I'm wrong."

Jenny nods, hefting her bat with an air of menacing purpose. "Let's go fucking find out."

It doesn't take you long to reach the Vargas-Holt homestead, even considering your attempts at making your approach as stealthy as possible. The door's unlocked and ajar; unless Dr. Vargas has suddenly become extremely careless, it looks like you're two for two on educated guesses today. You peek your head inside, finding the same cozy and lushly-appointed house that has always been here. But as you've learned in your dealings with Gal, appearances are almost always deceiving.

A spiral of rainbow power and a sizzle of cat piss later, and the three of you find yourself standing in the absolute wreck of Isabelle's living room. Pictures are knocked off the wall, the plants have been pulled out of their pots, and you have to fight back a tickle of amusement when you realize that Gal has gathered up all of Dr. Vargas's Kokopellis and stuffed them into the garbage. You're less amused to see that she apparently rummaged through the refrigerator and dumped anything she didn't like directly onto the floor, the Vargas-Holt kitchen littered with broken glass, puddling liquids and wasted food. This goddamn asshole. You're about to say something when Rhys puts a finger to his lips, motioning first to his ear and then down the hall. You have to strain a bit, lacking his acute elven hearing, but you can still faintly make out the muffled noises coming from further inside the house.

Jenny adjusts her grip on her bat, mouthing a question to you --The Bedroom?--

You nod, and the three of you begin picking through the ruins to quietly make your way to Isabelle's parent's room. The muffled noises are decidedly less muffled as you near it, the unmistakable sounds of grunts and groans warbling out from the master bedroom. Rhys takes up a position in front of the door, meeting your eyes and then Jenny's. After receiving an affirming nod from both of you, he holds up three fingers and deliberately ticks them down.

Three.

Two.

One.

And with that, he surges forward to plant his foot directly beside the knob, smashing the door open to allow you and Jenny to rush in. Even with the adrenaline coursing through you, the scene you find is almost enough to bring you to a skidding halt. There's Gal, sprawled out atop Isabelle's parent's bed, and that sure as fuck seems to be a pair of Dr. Vargas's panties pulled down over her head. She's got a bottle of wine in one hand and the remote to the television in the other, the former sloshing and spilling all over the bedsheets as she messily shoves the latter into her squelching pussy. She's biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she desperately masturbates to the beach picture of Isabelle and her mother in bikinis she stole off the wall, so focused on trying to bring herself to orgasm that it takes her a second to notice that three people have burst in on her illicit self-gratification.

She does notice the baseball bat arching towards her, her frustrated grunts turning into a surprised squeak as she rolls off the bed just in time to avoid a blow that snaps the headboard clean in half. She scrabbles to her feet, snatching up the soiled bedspread and throwing it at Jenny before grabbing the cellphone off the bedside table. She rushes to the window as she fumbles out a quick text, letting out a scream of boiling annoyance a second after hitting send. The fucking bitch must have been trying to set off the bomb early. She smashes her arm through the window plane, ignoring the blood dripping down her arm as she hurls her cellphone directly at your face. It's not much of a defense, but it holds you off long enough for her to 'poof' into a sneering little bat and flitter through the broken window.

...Only to find herself pulled back in as Rhys snags her in an impromptu net made out of a pillowcase, the transformed girl writhing and screeching in outrage as the prince quickly ties off her prison and shoves her into the pocket of his jean jacket.

You let out a triumphant cheer as Jenny grabs Rhys by the arm, giving the boy a look of thrilled congratulation. Her delighted expression doesn't last long, however, Jenny's face darkening as she presses her bat against the squirming mass inside Rhys's pocket. "I fucking dare you to try something."

There is a long silence as the trapped witch stills, Jenny's threat hanging over the room. For a moment, you dare to hope that Gal has decided to give up without any more of a fight. At length, however, you become all too aware of her choice of a final ****. "Um, Rhys? I think she's, uh..."

"Huh?" The prince squints at the suddenly darkening patch on his jacket pocket, letting out a yelp when he realizes that Gal is pissing all over him. He struggles out of the befouled garment and holds it gingerly out at arm's length, all three of you unable to hide your disgust as it drips onto the floor.

Well, at least now you know what it sounds like when a bat chuckles. Take victory where you can find it.